Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.140.246.156
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Winds hustling pass the speed limit. 
Trees whispering gossip; 
obviously a scandalous myth. 

She stares up into the copper brown walls. 
Resting, but not relaxing, in a bed of straws. 
Her long golden hair nesting at the back of her head. 

Oh my might midnight star, 
What a wonderful sight you are! 
You live in the cold core of my heart. 
Yet when I look up into the 
dark luminous eyes of yours, 
you are laying so very still 
like a pupil dilating. 

You cluster above her home, 
Waiting for the girl to arrive just outside her door. 
Yearning to shine your glistening light upon her face. 
Oh admirable Moon, 
you want to reach out to 
her ravenous soul. 
To heal the battle wounds left by her evil step family. 

Oh starry, starry night, 
I wish, I wish 
that I just might be appeal-able 
to attend the Dark Ball. 
To be able to enter the mysterious dark hollow tree 
castle that stands on top of the hill. 

“Bring me an orange pumpkin 
and fetch me some rats. 
Bring me a dog and some laughter too. 
See to it the eleven star be your guide. 
And look out for your one falling glass slipper shoe. 
Look at the village with merriment and show pride; 
that Cinderella is no longer a peasant but a would-be bride. 
Common now, you know the deal. 
The magic is done and the starry night is seal. 
Midnight is the time the truth will be revealed.” 

She twirl about in her precious new gown 
praising the wondrous moments one live through life. 
Gathering her courage she step right up. 
Humming the enchanted beauty of the night until 
She reach on top. 

You, mountain, peek through your curious eyes, 
watching the girl ascend to her forthcoming. 
You speak into the world, rumbling you reaction 
of you understanding. 
That you, mountain, are at the top of the world 
and have seen it all, 
but not the enticing love story stronger than the 
stinging of a thousand bee. 

Winds hustling pass the speed limit. 
Trees whispering gossip; 
obviously a scandalous myth. 
For the real prince in disguise stand guard at the 
entrance of the door.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required